


I Was There When It Began, I'll Be There When It Ends

by Dikhotomia



Series: Whumptober 2k19: FE3H Edition [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of Dismemberment, Psychological Trauma, Seiros is not okay, Whumptober 2019, like I think one of the darkest things I've written, post nabatean massacre, prompt #1 shaky hands, this is dark guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dikhotomia/pseuds/Dikhotomia
Summary: "Cethleann kneels at her side, face tear stained and fingers gripping at her robes, touching her face, begging her to come back but Seiros isn't sure how, can't begin to understand the maze she's found herself lost in."OrIn the aftermath of Nemesis' attack, Seiros drowns.





	I Was There When It Began, I'll Be There When It Ends

**Author's Note:**

> STARTING WHUMTOBER OFF WITH A BANG. Though seriously heed the warnings before you read cuz I let this get away from me a little. I don't really know what else to say.

There's something wrong.

_There's something wrong_ and for an agonizing moment Seiros' body refuses to register it, her lungs freeze, her muscles become pins and needles and numbness, and her mind skips, stutters and halts as her eyes take in the sight in front of her. 

It doesn't make sense.

Nothing was wrong when she was out that morning, slipping through bustling halls that now laid barren and silent, greeting her kin and the humans that came and went from their temple and city that now was nothing more than ghosts and dust whispering on the breeze.

(_This is your fault_)

Realization hits her like a blade to the chest, each sense coming back in hitching starts. Her hands shake, her lungs draw shallow breaths and her heart hammers wildly like a caged animal desperately seeking escape.

_There's blood in the air_, sharp, metallic and burning on her tongue like the ash she'd mistaken for dust. Her home is in ruins, buildings smouldering and blood starkly staining what little is standing; red and green in crisscross patterns, bodies underfoot in numbers Seiros can't count. She hears nothing of her kin around her, of Cichol's horror, of Cethleann's cries, of Maculi and Indech's anger.

She remembers, abruptly and all at once, the fractured pieces of the past few hours of chaos rampaging through with enough force to bring her to her knees. 

Nemesis and his warriors, the screams of her dying kin as they came upon them like Seiros had come down upon the Agartheans for their hubris. She wonders what she missed, wonders what she didn't_ see_ \---

Cethleann kneels at her side, face tear stained and fingers gripping at her robes, touching her face, begging her to come back but Seiros isn't sure how, can't begin to understand the maze she's found herself lost in.

She thinks she leaves, thinks she remembers the scenery change as she walked on shaking legs, deaf to the cries of those still with her. She thinks she left them behind in her single minded need to see --

She thinks some part of her expects the sight she comes upon, thinks another part of her violently rebukes it. The blood on the floor can't be Sothis' (_but it is_), the remains of her body desecrated are just some horrific dream (_but you're awake_), the head that sits forgotten in the center, it's expression so serene and peaceful and now forever trapped in deep slumber.

_It isn't real_, (but it is), _**it isn't real **_\--

Her hands shake worse, blood soaking into her robes and boots as she kneels in the pool and reaches, reaches and lifts. She thinks it's heavier than she expected a severed head to be, thinks that the skin is still warm, she thinks another part of her shatters with it, the pieces falling away into the all consuming void that had taken root.

Someone is screaming, loud, long and anguished and she wants them to be silent. She's heard enough of those screams today, enough of the pain and the horror to last her a lifetime.

(_It's you_)

She snaps back in a ragged inhale, screaming turning into sobbing laughter until her lungs burn and her throat bleeds, until her entire body shakes with exhaustion and a boiling rage so hot it threatens to burn her alive.

"I'll kill him," she mumbles, voice broken and crumbling at the edges, coiled around the head cradled in her lap. "I'll kill him." She whispers over and over and over, breath hitching and throat tightening as a new wave of tears start and time blurs.

Cichol finds her sitting listless and silent, staring blankly up at the throne that forever would lay empty.

(_Not forever_.)

He gathers her up in his arms, crushing her to his chest and muttering words she doesn't hear beyond the hum of his voice. She thinks the others join them, thinks someone takes Sothis' head away from her but she can't be sure when her mind is as shattered as it is, when her blood screams for vengeance but her body can't hope to move.

She lets them carry her from the Tomb, all of them silent and shell-shocked.

Her hands never stopped shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on [Tumblr](http://dikhotomia.tumblr.com/) and or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/modulatechaos)


End file.
